Page 30 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

I stare at him, the pieces clicking into place. This man who stalked me, who broke into my apartment, who terrorized me, who pretends to be the Alpha from my books believed I would be given to him as a reward for his stalking.

A trophy handed down to a faithful servant.

My heartbeat steadies, the shocked flutter giving way to a strong, insistent rhythm that pumps through my veins, bringing with it clarity for the first time in almost a decade. The air in my lungs no longer feels borrowed. I own each breath, and with it, each decision.

“No.” The single syllable drops from my lips like a stone into still water, creating ripples that disrupt the carefully constructed scenario before me.

Gregory’s head cocks to the side, as if he’s unfamiliar with the word. “No?”

“No.” Stronger this time, my voice filling the space between us. “This deal isn’t happening.”

Wells exchanges a glance with Gregory, a silent communication between men who expected compliance. “Ms. Richardson, perhaps you don’t understand the generosity of this offer?—”

“Generosity?” The word burns on my tongue. “Let me understand this correctly. Augustus Sinclair died without legitimate children, which means his assets should revert to his closest living relative. Me .”

Gregory’s mouth tightens. “As I explained, the legalities?—”

“Are quite clear,” I finish for him, rising from my chair to stand beside Dominic.

“Under pack law, a blood relative takes precedence over a sibling when the deceased has designated no other heir. I may be born from an affair, but I’m still his daughter according to every legal document.

The fact that I’m actually your biological child only strengthens my claim to the entire Sinclair estate. ”

The temperature in the room drops, and Wells shifts uncomfortably, his pen stilling mid-note.

“Why would I give up inheriting the entire Sinclair pack and all their assets for”—I pick up the document with two fingers—“this insulting consolation prize?”

Gregory’s composure cracks, a momentary flash of surprise crossing his features before he rebuilds his mask. “You’ve done your research. ”

“I’m an author. I enjoy research.” I drop the paper and close the folder before picking it up. “Louie let slip that the reason he wanted me was for what I could bring to his pack, and after I received the summons from this office, I’ve had time to think of what that reason was.”

My gaze slides to Simon, whose face has gone ashen. He shrinks in his chair, the predatory confidence evaporating. This wasn’t in the script.

“Knowing that I was legitimately a Sinclair, there’s only one reason the Santaro pack would want me.” The puzzle pieces lock into place as I speak them. “They were after the Sinclair inheritance my mother promised them, because you were a cowardly Alpha who rejected his true bondmate.”

The metallic scent of fear seeps from Wells. “These are complex legal matters?—”

“And yet simple enough to understand.” I lean forward, my palm pressed flat on the tabletop. “You’re trying to manipulate me into surrendering my claim to the Sinclair fortune for a fraction of its worth.”

Gregory’s fingers form a steeple beneath his chin. “You seem to think you have leverage.”

“I know I do.”

His lip curls. “You’re exactly like your mother. ”

“No,” I correct him. “I am nothing like her. And clearly nothing like you, either. If you had just left me alone to be happy, you would not be facing this… What did you call it? Issue .”

I tuck the folder under my arm to keep as proof and grab my purse from the table. “This conversation is over.”

Wells clears his throat, his fingers nervously straightening his tie. “Ms. Richardson, before you make a hasty decision, there are realities you should consider.”

He withdraws another document from his stack of papers, this one bearing official seals and signatures.

“DNA results can be altered. Testimony can be purchased. With your current financial situation, any case you might bring would be dismissed as a revenge tactic by an illegitimate affair baby trying to cash in.”

My stomach twists at the casual cruelty, at how quickly they shift from welcoming me back to threatening destruction.

“You’ve built a modest name as an author,” Wells continues. “It would be unfortunate if that career were derailed by lengthy, public legal battles that exposed your complicated origins.”

The implied threat hangs in the air. Cooperate or be destroyed. Submit or be crushed beneath the Sinclair machine.

Dominic’s hand settles on the small of my back, the contact a reminder that I’m not facing this alone. “Are you threatening her?”

“Not at all.” Wells adjusts his glasses with practiced innocence. “Simply outlining potential consequences.”

“We’re done here.” Dominic directs me toward the door. “Any further communication will go through our lawyer.”

“Your lawyer?” Gregory’s eyebrow lifts. “Don’t be dramatic, Mr. Sterling. This is a family matter.”

“Exactly.” Dominic smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “And Chloe’s family is waiting for her at home.”

“Chloe.” Gregory’s voice softens in an attempt at fatherly concern that comes twenty-six years too late. “Don’t make a decision you’ll regret. The Santaro pack won’t stop pursuing you. This offer protects you from them.”

“I don’t need your protection.” My back straightens, shoulders squaring. “I have a pack.”

Simon half-rises from his chair, desperation etched into the lines of his face. “You can’t mean those Alphas. They’re using you! I’m the one who’s been watching over you?— ”

“That’s enough, Mr. Sullivan.” Wells cuts him off with a sharp gesture.

We head for the door, Dominic’s hand steady at the base of my spine. With each step, my tension loosens, and my breath flows a little freer.

“Wait.” Gregory’s command stops us at the threshold. “Reconsider. It’s only one child, Chloe. Afterward, you’d be set up for life.” His voice drops, calculated to wound. “Providing you didn’t inherit your mother’s spending habits.”

The barb misses its mark. I don’t turn, don’t acknowledge the desperate ploy. Instead, I take another step forward, then another, Dominic matching his pace to mine.

The heavy conference room door swings shut behind us with a definitive click, sealing Gregory and his schemes on the other side.

I exhale a shaky breath that carries the tension of the last hour. My knees tremble, threatening to buckle now that the confrontation is over.

“Don’t falter now.” Dominic’s whisper brushes my ear. “We still need to get out of this place before they think to have security check your purse.”

My fingers tighten around the slender straps.

My heart races the entire walk down the hallway, where the Beta receptionist observes our approach with a neutral expression .

“Thank you for coming,” she recites as we pass her desk.

The elevator doors slide open at our approach, and Dominic ushers me inside first. I turn to face the reception area as he joins me.

As the doors begin to close, I catch a glimpse of Simon watching from the hallway, his thin face twisted with thwarted hunger as metal panels slide together, sealing us into blessed isolation.

My legs finally surrender, and I sag against Dominic’s chest, his arms wrapping around me in an instant. My forehead rests on his collarbone, the steady thump of his heart beneath my ear setting a rhythm for my own to follow.

“Take me home,” I whisper into his dress shirt. “I want to go home.”

His lips brush the top of my head. “Home it is.”

As the elevator descends, each floor takes us further from the Sinclair legacy and closer to the future I’m choosing for myself. One surrounded by people who see me as more than a bloodline or a means to an end.

One surrounded by people who truly love me.